


i don't really wanna go anywhere

by LossOfWords



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Self Harm, Slight Obsession, ouma is sad give him a biiig ol hug pwease, possessive thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LossOfWords/pseuds/LossOfWords
Summary: Saihara. A person like no other, keen, kind, willing to deal with Ouma’s bullshittery and lies. Fond of them, even.He had said so many times before that he loved Ouma more than anything. In the dead of night through intimate whispers, during sex through a flustered moan, absently in the middle of the day…So why didn’t Ouma believe it?





	i don't really wanna go anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi, this is a vent fic in case you didn't read the tags. if at any point you find my portrayal of self harm to in some way be romanticizing, please keep in mind that this is based directly after my personal feelings and thoughts, and i in no way am promoting self harm.
> 
> also, i listened to agoraphobia by autoheart on repeat while writing this, so if you wanna put yourself in my mindset while reading then give it a listen. honestly, listen to the entire album, it's called punch and it's about the progression of a relationship, 10/10
> 
> alsoalsoididn'treallyproofreadthissosorryifthere'sabunchamistakes

_tired_

Ouma turned the handle in his shower, cranking it to an unreasonable heat. His hands lacked a firm grasp, and he felt relieved to pull them away, letting them instead unbutton his uniform. 

His eyes strayed around the bathroom as his shirt fell to the floor. Lights stung his eyes like bleach, making it hard to look around anywhere besides the floor. Tiles reeked of actual bleach, a scent obtained from panicked cleaning after a particularly aggressive session. 

Fingers fumbled with his belt, pants and underwear eventually falling down and pooling around his feet. As Ouma kicked off his socks he felt a slight nausea slide into his gut, pooling in the depths of his small frame, but he ignored it, like he did with most things.

His gaze darted briefly over the contents on his counter before he scooped it into his palm and stepped into the shower.

_guilty_

The stream hit his skin with a slight twinge of pain, but he didn’t turn the temperature down. His eyes slipped shut as droplets hit his head, running down his scalp, through dyed purple strands, to his pale neck, over love bites that had been left previously. 

Shaky fingers trace them, dig into them.

He pictured Saihara, his stupidly gentle teeth nipping at the skin, so lovingly. So much love, wasted on someone like Ouma.

It hurt to dig into the bruises, but Saihara’s apologetic tone when he said he wanted to be alone that day hurt more. A turned down date, for what? Quiet time? A nap? 

Ouma knew he was overreacting. But he could feel the ever present pit in his chest throb uselessly as he removed his shaking hand from his throat.

Saihara. A person like no other, keen, kind, willing to deal with Ouma’s bullshittery and lies. Fond of them, even.

He had said so many times before that he loved Ouma more than anything. In the dead of night through intimate whispers, during sex through a flustered moan, absently in the middle of the day…

So why didn’t Ouma believe it?

_liar_

Feet slipped slightly on wet tile, and Ouma found his back hitting the shower wall. With shaky legs he slid downwards, until he felt the subtle pooling of water and hard marble floor against his ass.

In his right hand he turned metal over and over between his fingers, watching the way it glistened. 

A lump caught in his throat, countered by a sickeningly excited buzz in his chest. Paired nicely with the hole that had been tearing itself open.

He wanted nothing more than to have Saihara in front of him, kissing his fingertips, telling him that it was okay to feel sad. Not that he would ever allow something like to happen, his stupid defenses way too high to ever allow vulnerability like that. Just the thought of his beloved seeing him like this caused a tremor to wrack his frame. 

He drew his knees together, and then out again, listening to the way that the water between them squelched. 

He did it again, and again, until he grew sick of the sound. 

Trembling fingers turned metal more rapidly, contemplating, though he knew what the outcome would be. It was always the same. No matter the amount of hesitation, consideration, acute lack of masochism that ought to come with this sort of act, he always gave in. 

Ouma wondered absently if Saihara was thinking of him. If he missed him at all. It was a stupid musing, considering that they had seen each other mere hours ago. But he couldn’t help it, the fear and worry that encircled his thoughts regarding Saihara. The constant terror at the concept of his lover growing tired of him. 

His own dedication for Saihara was worrying in and of itself. He concealed it well, but in his mind he could only think thoughts of how he would do anything for the boy. If he were given the command, he would kill everyone trapped in this school with them, if only to see Saihara happy. 

Sick, so so so so so sick. 

_obsessed_

Ouma clenched his blade in his right hand a bit tighter, before bringing it to hover over his left thigh. The innocent flesh already littered with scars stared at him, daringly. Earlier nausea presented itself again.

The tip of the blade poked plump flesh, before being pulled back in hesitation. So much confliction. Makes you think he just should give up altogether. 

But he didn’t. 

With buzzing fingers he brought the blade back in a rushed movement, pressing down and pulling until a line presented itself, blood bubbling, irritated by the disturbance. 

It didn’t hurt.

He pressed into the same wound again, harder, and pulled again, watching with a sickening feeling of satisfaction as the cut split wider, deeper. 

He did it again, and again, and again, and again again again again, until it actually began to hurt. 

_stings_

Red began to coat the shower floor carelessly. It was almost pretty.

He wondered if Saihara would think it was pretty too. Probably not, with the way his eyebrows knitted when he first saw Ouma’s scars. He didn’t beg for him to never do it again, just sighed and held one of Ouma’s hands.

_“It really hurts me to see you do this to yourself.”_

Ouma probably said something dumb in response. Made a joke about his organization, smiled and said there was no reason to worry.

_liar_

Shifting over his hand, he worked on crafting another scar, another one for Saihara to fret over, another one to provoke a deep and profound sense of guilt. 

He always continued with his behaviors, even though he knew it upset Saihara. And to think that he had the audacity to say that he’d do anything for him. 

He’d do almost anything for him.

That wasn’t a lie. 

He wanted nothing more than to always be in Saihara’s presence, to know that he made him happy, to know he was the most important person in his life, he just wanted Saihara, all of Saihara.

Possessiveness wasn’t the right word.

Obsession felt dirty. 

Insecurity somewhat hit the mark, but it hurt Ouma’s pride.

Clenching his teeth, Ouma ran the blade over his skin in a haze, pain melding together with emotional turmoil, canceling each other out, but not nearly enough. 

The lump in his throat grew into something terminal, until it released itself in the form of an ugly sob, the noise drowned out by the steady shower stream. His chest ached horribly. It was horrible, so horrible, he wished he didn’t overreact the way that he did, that he could just be happy with the fact that Saihara spent any time with him at all. That he said he loved him so often.

_but what if it was all a lie?_

A shaking hand stilled in it’s movements, Ouma’s torso convulsing with sobs and potential panic, though he couldn’t tell. Blood trickled down the drain in a swirl, leaving him. 

His skin felt cold underneath, the area surrounding his cuts unbearably itchy.

Ouma curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and trying to cease his sobs that bordered on painful. 

“S-Saihara-c..chan,” he muttered to himself pathetically as if trying to summon him, his voice hitching.

Was it selfish to wish Saihara could sit with him while he did this? 

Hold his hand steady while he damaged the meat of his own skin, tell him it was ok, make him feel warm and safe. 

Of course it was selfish. It was disgusting. But in his haze of sadness and panic, it was hard to maintain a moral compass. 

Shakily he shifted onto his knees and moved to shut off the water, his body working incredibly slow. 

The last of the water trickled down the drain, and as Ouma watched it go, he felt a last sob force it’s way out of his throat. 

Placing the blade down somewhere, he laid down on the shower floor, his leg still bleeding profusely, the feeling uncomfortable. His mind felt physically heavy, like a weight was holding his head to the ground. His chest ached, the pain from thoughts about Saihara nearly palpable. 

Despite himself, he giggled bitterly.

———-

_i could walk for hours under this dry, lonely terrain_

_you insist i stay home, your beautiful hands caressing my face, telling me of all the wonderful things we have here_

_i’m not in pain, but i wish i was, with the way your delicate expression breaks as i turn to walk away_

_the moment i step away, the ground beneath me breaks_

_i blink and find myself somewhere new, somewhere empty_

_long road stretches for miles with no end goal in sight_

_i hold my arms out, to mimic it_

_it isn’t long before they get tired_

**Author's Note:**

> the poem featured at the end was written by me months ago, about my feelings regarding someone in my life :')
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this! it's pretty personal, i decided to write from the perspective of ouma cause i find myself relating to him in quite a few different ways. if you want, i always love comments + kudos to boost my teeny weeny ego! <3


End file.
